


Monster

by nai_za



Category: Chen - Fandom, EXO, Jongdae, Kim Jongdae - Fandom, Kpop - Fandom, band - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Honeymoon, Jongdae - Freeform, Kim - Freeform, Light Smut, Love, M/M, Monster - Freeform, Romance, beach, x Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 11:26:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11919906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nai_za/pseuds/nai_za
Summary: - you've married him. kim jongdae. the man ofyour dreams, and now he's whisked you awayto an off-shore retreat in tanzania. alone, withhim, all day, in the ocean...that can't be a badthing, can it?- this story is an x-reader- this story is gender neutral, entirely- this story contains a mild smut scene- this story is one chapter





	Monster

_Beautiful._  
               

         That is truly the only word you can think of when you look through the lush diaphanous white curtains at the sea. It sparkles and glitters when the midday sun hits it, the water probably warm to touch. Maybe you should plan a swim later?  
              

          You had gone swimming the day before and let’s just say—you hold back a blush as the memory comes to—newlyweds don’t really do much ‘swimming’ per se…even when neck deep in water. You cast a glance at the white shutter door leading to the bathroom; you can hear the shower running. This time you’re unable to resist a faint blush at the thought of your husband…in there…showering…in the nude. _Oh, for the love of God._  
                

        You’d never pictured this. You thought Paris, London, Bali, Singapore—even Zanzibar, but not this. A hotel in the middle of the ocean; how impractical, how ridiculous, how inexplicably amazing. Your husband—god, how you loved saying that—has booked you a secluded chalet somewhere in the deep sea. It isn’t completely stranded in the centre of nowhere, obviously, but it is almost three kilometres from shore and you’ve been informed by a rather posh looking brochure you found in the downstairs kitchen that it is almost five hundred metres deep where the chalet is constructed. Yours isn’t the only fashionably stationed cabin, however, a paces to the right is another, and behind you too.  
              

          Privacy wasn’t an issue though, it never is with honeymooners; they have a tendency to not leave the comfortable interior of their chalets, due to uh, exhausting extracurricular activities. You can’t help but giggle to yourself; you’ve been experiencing a fair share of those naughty activities yourself.  
                

        It is perfect. It’s a single bedroom double story made of wood and decorated with billowy white fabrics and large panoramic windows facing the oceans. It is also unapologetically romantic. You slip out of bed, regretting that you have to leave its soft warmth, and open the curtains that span the entirety of the eastern wall on the uppermost floor. You unlock the glass door and allow the salty sea air to enter and refresh your senses. You close your eyes, feeling the hot gaze of the sun on your face and wish this never had to end.  
              

       There’s a minimalist lounge and kitchenette downstairs, with a large bedroom and bathroom upstairs. The chalet is small, but welcoming despite its isolation. Yours is the last chalet on the line, allowing you an unobstructed view of the never-ending horizon of blue and green. The ocean is calm, relaxed; you’ve never felt more at peace.  
              

          The bathroom door closes with an almost imperceptible _click_ and you spin around to face the man you can honestly say is the absolute love of your life. The man you had the infallible luck of marrying no more than a week ago, the man who can make you beam with just a subtle glance and wink in your direction, the man who can’t hold back a satisfied grin every time he sees you, the man who lights up your world and allows you to light up his. Your husband, Kim Jongdae.

 

 There’s missed droplets of hot water scattered on his torso that catch the sunlight and glisten, and a white fluffy towel wrapped around his waist. His dark hair stands in an unkempt frenzy and you can’t subdue the oncoming happiness you feel when you see him.  
                

        You hold back a smile, “Good shower?”  
                

        “Could’ve been better,” he admits, walking over.  
                

        “Oh?” you wrap your arms around his waist.  
               

         “If only you were there to make it the best,” and he leans down and kisses you, his mouth warm and fresh, tasting vaguely of the peppermint mouthwash you both share.  
                

        His hand cups the back of your head, his fingers combing through your messy hair. You part your lips, your tongue darting out to meet his in an explosion that clears your mind of all subconscious thoughts and has you firmly footed in the now.  
               

         “What a waste of a good shower,” you remark as you fall back onto the bed. He rolls his eyes as he climbs atop of you and hovers over, his fingers teasingly trailing southward.  
               

     

       You rise to meet his lips, he kisses you as reverently as he did the first time, under that willow tree in the park where you sit and read your novels. You love books—sometimes, you can’t help but to think that what you have with Jongdae is just a line in a book that you’re so utterly immersed in you think you’re living it. You brought a fair few books along to quell the boredom you thought you’d feel—with being cooped up in a smaller than life honeymoon suite—but man, oh man were you _wrong._ There was no time for boredom. There was no time for anything at all; it seemed, anything but each other.

 

        Does this feeling really dim down? You wonder to yourself, is that even possible? Is it even possible to ever not feel the intensity of the passion that burned so heatedly within? He catches your bottom lip between his teeth. _God._  
                

        “Close enough,” he breathes against your neck.  
                

_Did I say that aloud? Oh, god._  
               

         “Again, not quite me,” he teases playfully, with a sparkle in his eye.  
                

        You can feel your cheeks flushing fuchsia, and you resist the urge to bury your face in his shoulder. You bit back your embarrassment from thinking out loud, and try to sound flirtatious, “What do I call you then?”  
                

        You want to smack your head against a wall when you realise what you just opened yourself up to.  
                

        He chuckles, “You can call me—”  
                

        Suddenly with a _whoosh_ of frighteningly cold air, and the splintering noise of glass and wood shattering, Jongdae is yanked off of you. He screams in pure terror and with a horrifying, bone-crunching _crack,_ he is devoured by the green scaled sea monster.  
                

        “Monster,” the sea monster says casually, “You can call me monster.”  
                

        And with a splash of salty turquoise water, he swims off never to be seen again.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published: https://www.quotev.com/story/8938997/Monster


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